The King's Evil

'You have been busy in here, Mr Anger,' he commented.

'It has been hard but rewarding work, sir.'

'I hope to profit from it myself. Flave you learned anything about the business affairs of Sir Ambrose Northcott?'

'A great deal, Mr Redmayne,' said the clerk, patting the safe to his left. 'Most of the documents locked away in here related to those affairs.'

'I would value a sighting of them.'

'That is asking too much, sir, but I did anticipate your interest and am desirous of being helpful. To that end, I have made a record of certain transactions in which Sir Ambrose engaged.'

'Do they relate to France?'

'Almost exclusively.'

'Do they involve contraband?'

'You cannot expect me to impugn Mr Creech's reputation.'

'Would you rather that his murder went unsolved?'

The clerk hesitated. 'Some of the transactions stray outside the strict limits of the law but that is all I am prepared to say.' He opened a drawer to take out a document. 'Here it is, Mr Redmayne. I hope that it will assist you in some small way in bringing the killer to justice.'

Christopher took the paper from him and ran his eye over it. The neat calligraphy of Geoffrey Anger uncovered a whole history of trading between Sir Ambrose Northcott and certain French merchants. Among them was the name of one Jean-Paul Charentin of Paris. Christopher felt a buzz of excitement. Links were slowly being forged.

'This is most obliging of you, Mr Anger,' he said.

'I have had it waiting for days.'

'My search took me across the Channel and I have only just returned.' He tapped the piece of paper. 'May I have some elucidation?'

'If you wish.'

Christopher took him line by line through the document, asking for clarification even where he did not need it. The clerk's confidence got the better of him. Thinking that he was being discreet, he instead revealed far more than he intended, enjoying a rare moment to show off his knowledge of commercial transactions. By the time they had finished, Christopher could see why Sir Ambrose and his lawyer had been so secretive. Much of their legitimate trading was no more than a mask for some profitable smuggling. The architect remembered the extensive cellars which he had designed for the new house; the ideal place in which to store contraband goods unloaded from the Marie Louise and brought to the private landing stage.

'I have one last thing to ask you, Mr Anger.'

'There is nothing more that I can tell you,' said the other, rising to indicate that the interview was over. 'You will understand how much work I have to do. Let me show you out.'

Christopher remained seated. 'In a moment,' he said. 'Answer me this first. When you opened that safe, did you find a copy of Sir Ambrose Northcott's will?'

'I did.'

'Is it still on the premises?'

'That need not concern you, Mr Redmayne.'

'Is there no chance that I might see it?'

'None at all, sir,' said the other with a sudden pomposity. 'The last will and testament of a client is the most confidential of all documents. I could not possibly divulge any of its contents.'

'I am only curious about one tiny provision.'

'Your curiosity must go unsatisfied.'

'Must it?' said Christopher with a smile, getting to his feet. 'You have given me so much help today. I am overcome with gratitude and I applaud your thoroughness. Mr Creech did not appreciate you.'

'That was my opinion, too,' confessed the other.

'You would have made a worthy partner to him.'

'Oh no, sir,' said the clerk piously. 'I could never have condoned some of the transactions which went on in this office.'

'With regard to the will...'

'It is a closed book to you, Mr Redmayne.'

Christopher nodded. 'So be it. Knowing the extent of

Sir Ambrose's interests and property, I am sure it is such a complicated document that even you could not remember all of its provisions. There is no point at all in my asking to whom the house was left.'

'Which house?'

'The one in Lincoln's Inn Fields,' said Christopher artlessly. 'Sir Ambrose would hardly leave it to his family or they would become aware of the nefarious activities which took place there. He would protect his wife from such a shocking discovery. On the other hand,' he added, watching the clerk's expression, 'he would be unlikely to bequeath the property to the lady to whom it is leased. Mrs Mandrake.'

Geoffrey Anger's lip twitched. Christopher had his answer.

Penelope Northcott sat on the edge of the bed and held the objects in her hands. She had not dared to show them to her mother. It had never even occured to her to share her discovery with George Strype. Whether from fear or consideration of another's feelings, she kept them hidden and lied to her mother about their existence. Found during her search of the Westminster house, they had caused her intense unease yet she could not bring herself to throw them away and forget that they ever existed. They were too important for that. As she laid them on the bed, she saw the objects as yet another part of a troublesome legacy. If she gave them to her mother, she suspected, they would only end up on a fire in her beloved garden.

Lady Northcott was quickly learning to live without her husband. It would be cruel to open yet another gaping wound in her past. Penelope elected to carry the revelation inside her until it could be divulged to the one person who might find it instructive. Sir Ambrose Northcott was a private man but even his daughter had not expected this level of secrecy. She wondered how long this particular deception had been sustained.

A tap on her door forced her to abandon her contemplation.

'Penelope!' called her mother. 'Are you there?'

'One moment!' she answered, hiding the objects under the pillow.

'May I come in?'

'Of course, Mother.'

Lady Northcott entered with a look of concern on her face.

'Why have you stayed in your room all afternoon?'

'I was tired.'

'Well, I expect some company this evening,' warned the other. 'I would like to continue the conversation we had in the garden yesterday.'

'Yesterday?'

'About George.'

'Indeed?'

'I think that you should consider postponing the wedding.'

Penelope nodded. 'It has been at the forefront of my mind.'

'Have you reached a decision?'

'No, Mother. It would be unfair to do that before I speak to George.'

'And when is that likely to be?'

'I am not sure.'

'You cannot tarry forever.'

Penelope nodded, moving to the window in thought. She looked into her future with trepidation then remembered the possessions of her father which she had just concealed beneath her pillow. When she came back